


so call us even

by Psilent (HereThereBeFic)



Series: catch your breath; there are no breaks [1]
Category: LazyTown
Genre: Blood, Dark, Friendship, Friendship followed by fifty question marks, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Illustrated, Injury, Kind of??? Robbie is not a comforting person, Magic, Near Death Experiences, Number 9 Was Not Nice, Poisoning, also there is A Swear, glamour, mentioned: mass hypnosis, mentioned: starvation, that escalated quickly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-18
Updated: 2016-12-18
Packaged: 2018-09-09 10:33:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8887558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HereThereBeFic/pseuds/Psilent
Summary: "What," he hissed through gritted teeth, "did you do?"Robbie blinked, his smirk faltering. "Me?""Oh, sorry, does someone else live around here who knows how to poison an elf?""Everyone in town knows how to poison an elf," Robbie said dryly. "What'd you do, pour sugar in an open wound?""I am not talking about sugar," Sportacus snapped, and belatedly realized he was still covering his left palm. He moved his right hand away and gestured weakly with it. "I am talking about poison."





	

**Author's Note:**

> in my heart of hearts all i want is shippy fluff of these two and instead i wrote this
> 
> mind the tags
> 
> i am also [on tumblr](http://defectivevorta.tumblr.com/)

It was shaping up to be another great day in LazyTown. The kids had decided to stage an impromptu gymnastics competition, and had invited Sportacus along to be a judge. They even gave him little numbered cards to hold up.

He quietly slid cards 1 through 9 under the "judging stand" (Mayor Meanswell's borrowed podium), deciding that while some healthy competition wasn't a bad thing, directly pitting the kids against each other probably wouldn't end well.

He made sure to give everybody helpful tips, while also pointing out their skills.

"Impressive arm strength, Stingy! Maybe try letting go of the bar next time."

"Excellent hand-eye coordination, Pixel!"

"Wonderful aim, Trixie! Creative use of slingshots!"

"Great focus, Ziggy!"

"Terrific balance, Stephanie!"

And so on, as the kids all scrambled to try and re-try the different events they'd come up with –– in some cases inventing new ones on the spot.

Sportacus had let them borrow some equipment from his ship, so it really did look like an actual gymnastics event, right out in the middle of a field. They were near the town outskirts, about halfway between the park and the billboard that "hid" the entrance to Robbie's lair; the kids had decided that grass and wide open spaces were safer than concrete and playground equipment. Normally Sportacus would have pointed out that it was actually easier to stick a landing on something solid, but the ground here was plenty firm beneath the grass, and he figured if they fell here, they would also fall on the concrete. At least here they wouldn't scrape their hands and knees.

He was glad to see the kids having so much fun, but standing still for so long was starting to wear on his nerves. So when Stephanie announced a water break, Sportacus took his own turn around the setup, trying to keep the tricks to a minimum. He didn't want any of the kids –– especially Ziggy –– trying to mimic him and getting hurt.

He couldn't resist finishing off with a backflip, though. Off the balance beam, onto the grass, then just a couple more back handsprings, and––

––something sliced into his left hand. And stayed there. He bit his tongue to keep from shouting, and rolled to a sitting position, clutching at his wrist just below the offending object.

It looked like –– glass?

...It looked _too much_ like glass. He squinted, and yes, there was the shimmer –– whatever this was, it _wasn't_ what it was trying to look like. He concentrated, trying to see through the illusion, but it was surprisingly strong. And he was starting to get dizzy.

...Dizzy? Well. That wasn't a great sign. Blood was gushing out around the disguised object, and he quickly covered it with his other hand as the kids ran over, shouting over one another in concern. Sportacus noted with alarm that they seemed to be moving and speaking in slow motion.

"Sportacus, are you okay!?"

"What happened!?"

"I've never seen you fall before!"

"Is that blood?"

"I'll get my uncle!"

At this, Sportacus shook his head, half to clear it and half to disagree. "No." It was getting harder to focus, harder to think, but he knew there was only one person who could help him with this. The person who must have left the... not-glass in this field in the first place.

He took a deep breath. "Get Robbie."

Stephanie took a step back and made a face. " _Robbie Rotten_?"

"He's closer," Sportacus said, casting around for any excuse to get the kids moving. He had the sinking feeling that he didn't have much time. "I don't want to leave this alone too long, it could get infected."

"Okay, but––" Stephanie sounded worried. Really worried. Sportacus couldn't focus on her face. Everything was tilting. "What if he doesn't want to help?"

Pain lanced up his arm and jolted through his entire body. Sportacus shut his eyes. _Don't_ _react_ , he thought, half at himself and half at the crystal on his chest.  _They're already scared._ "Just –– tell him I'll owe him a favor. Tell him that _exactly_."

Not, perhaps, the smartest message to send to a magic user.

But it would definitely get his attention.

* * *

It was shaping up to be another terrible day in LazyTown. The kids had decided to make as much noise as possible, as close to his lair as they could get without literally jumping around on the entrance hatch.

Robbie shoved his earplugs in more firmly and curled into a tighter ball in his chair. If he could just get back to sleep for even a _minute_...

The next thing he was aware of was a noise like someone _was_ jumping around on the entrance to his lair. He blinked, trying to figure out if he'd actually fallen asleep or had just been in a daze. Muffled shouts were coming through from the surface. Rolling his eyes, he pulled out the earplugs, stood, stretched, winced, and made his way over to the periscope.

Five terrified children were staring straight into the viewer. Robbie raised an eyebrow. "Well?"

The pink one took a deep breath. "Sportacus needs your help!"

"HA!" The laugh was involuntary, but heartfelt. "What could that annoying do-gooder possibly want _my_ help with?"

One of the others –– the loud girl –– leapt forward. "He's bleeding!"

"He's _what_?" Well, this was... new. Robbie tilted his head. "And he wants _my_ help?"

"Town was too far away!" said the one with all the gadgets.

"Well." Robbie clucked his tongue and affected a hurt tone of voice. "Nice to know I'm the last resort."

"Please! He said..." The pink one hesitated, and then sighed. "He said he'd owe you a favor."

Biting back an automatic rebuttal, Robbie froze. Quickly mulled the idea over.

And grinned.

A favor.

Now that _was_ interesting.

" _Well_ ," he said, voice laced with concern. His mind was spinning, already coming up with plans. A _favor_. The elf had to know all the implications such a bargain could carry, even without the exact knowledge of what he himself was. "This must be _serious_. Lead the way!"

* * *

_[Art](http://steampoweredace.tumblr.com/post/156546838488/steampoweredace-so-technically-something) by [Steampoweredace](http://steampoweredace.tumblr.com/). Posted here with artist's permission._

* * *

Footsteps.

Sportacus wrenched his eyes open and tried to sit up. Immediately, white-hot pain flared up and down his spine. He collapsed on his back and tried not to audibly gasp for breath. Funny. He didn't remember lying down in the first place.

His vision was hazy and swimming and mostly off-color, but he could just make out the six people leaning over him. He forced himself to smile. "Thank you, kids," he said, and paused to catch his breath. "Why don't you go and play in town? I'm, ah, sure you'd rather learn first-aid a little less close up."

The children's protests crowded each other out. He couldn't make sense of anything, until he heard Robbie say firmly above the din of small but insistent voices: "All right, all right, that was Sportadork for 'scram, kids, this is gonna get bloody.' Now shoo!"

"But––"

"I'll be fine," Sportacus reassured them. _Leave leave leave_ _**leave**_ _I'm going to_ _ **scream**_. "Robbie is right, you don't need to see this. I'll come and visit all of you later so you won't be too worried, okay?"

With reluctant parting words and worried well-wishes the specifics of which went entirely over his head, the children finally, mercifully, ran back towards town. Once he'd decided they were probably out of earshot –– and that if they weren't, he'd just have to deal with it –– Sportacus abandoned the mental effort he'd been putting into keeping his crystal quiet, and winced as it started up its beeping and flashing.

Robbie was smirking. Sportacus gulped down a ragged breath, forced himself to roll back up into a sitting position, and glared at him. " _What_ ," he hissed through gritted teeth, "did you _do_?"

Robbie blinked, his smirk faltering. "Me?"

"Oh, sorry, does someone else live around here who knows how to poison an elf?"

"Everyone in town knows how to poison an elf," Robbie said dryly. "What'd you _do_ , pour sugar in an open wound?"

"I am not talking about _sugar_ ," Sportacus snapped, and belatedly realized he was still covering his left palm. He moved his right hand away and gestured weakly with it. "I am talking about _poison_."

Robbie's reaction was immediate and terrifying. He paled, dropped to his knees, and snatched at Sportacus's injured hand. " _Shit_."

"Robbie––!" Sportacus yelped, breathless from the waves of pain now rolling over him as Robbie turned his hand over and over, examining it frantically.

"I thought I got _rid_ of these," Robbie hissed under his breath, pressing two fingers to the crook of Sportacus's elbow and shaking his head once, sharply, at whatever information he'd apparently gleaned from this. "Not good, _not_ good."

Sportacus glanced at his arm, confused. It looked fine to him. It didn't _feel_ fine, and felt even less so when it was suddenly yanked sideways and straightened out. He bit back a scream. "What––"

"Shut up," Robbie growled. "Shut up, shut _up_ , I can save your life or I can answer questions but I can't do both so take your pick."

Sportacus shut up.

Robbie kept muttering –– Sportacus caught about half of it and understood about a quarter of that. Which was worrying, because it _sounded_ like English and Icelandic. He just... couldn't follow it.

He was losing himself to the pain, burning up and drowning in it. His ears were ringing. His vision coalesced blotchily into one bright spot and then blacked out entirely. He was dimly aware of Robbie touching his wrists, his forehead, his throat. Fear tried to get its foot in the door and Sportacus refused. He wouldn't have sent for Robbie in the first place if he didn't trust him. ...At least a little.

"This is gonna hurt." The warning was muddled. Fractured. Too loud. _You should turn down the music when you're wearing headphones, Pixel, that's bad for your ears._ "...Yeah, that's the computer kid, right? Not here. Hoo _boy_ you're far gone. Also, seriously, comparatively speaking, this is gonna hurt a lot _more_ than everything else."

"I have an excellent solution to that," Sportacus gasped, or tried to.

And then he let himself pass out.

* * *

When Sportacus came to, he felt like... nothing. He _felt_ nothing. No pain. No anything else, either. Mental, emotional, or physical. Not exactly a numbness, just a... disconnect. From the world. His immediate memory was full of frantic beeping and furious, panicked whispering, and the sudden absence of these or any other noises only added to the hazy, dreamlike feeling.

He blinked up at the sky until his brain decided clouds were a concept it could get on board with, and the rest of reality came rushing in after that.

He sat up and looked around.

Robbie was right next to him, sitting crosslegged with his head in his hands.

"...Robbie?"

Slowly, Robbie raised his head. They stared at each other.

"Well," Robbie said, and cleared his throat. "So you're not dead. Good to know. You know how much I hate a wasted effort."

Sportacus fished around for an appropriate response, found his mind a complete blank, and settled on, "You look exhausted."

Robbie gave a hoarse laugh. "Yeah, well. Forty-five straight minutes of improvised magic will do that."

" _Forty-five_ ––"

"Anyway," Robbie said abruptly, and got to his feet. "You don't owe me anything."

"I –– what?"

"It was my fault," Robbie said, too casually, already walking away. "And I'm in a _giving_ mood, so call us even." He stopped, suddenly, and turned on his heel. "And you know what! Normally I'd say you should know better than to make a deal like that unless you were literally _dying_ , but." He gave a theatrical shrug. "You _were_. So." He turned. Kept walking. Stopped and turned again and actually moved back towards him, face reddening in –– anger? "But! Did you even know that? Or did you _actually_ think, oh, I'm hurt, Robbie's nearby, I'll just send a bunch of oblivious children to strike up a magical bargain on my behalf –– seriously, do you have _any_ idea what I could have done with your _blood_?"

Sportacus stood up, was hit immediately by vertigo, and tripped over his own feet. Robbie didn't move to help him up. He didn't laugh, either. He just sighed. "Go home," he said. "Eat some–-" (he shuddered) " _sportscandy_. And get some sleep. Check in with the brats first, if you must."

" _Robbie_ ," Sportacus said insistently, ignoring the buzzing in his skull. "I need to know–-"

"No you don't," Robbie cut him off, voice firm. "I told you I could save your life or answer questions. I didn't say _and_. I didn't say _one at a time_."

"And I didn't tell you my choice."

They stared each other down. Never mind the fact that Sportacus could still barely see straight. He took a deep breath. "If one of the children had touched that––"

Robbie stiffened. "It wouldn't have hurt the children!" he snapped, taking two more long strides back towards Sportacus and then stopping. He glared. "And you're not tricking me into saying anything else!"

"I'm not trying to trick you."

"Well –– well, good, because you can't!"

The standstill continued, each of them waiting for the other's next move.

_I thought I got **rid** of these..._

Something in Sportacus's mind fell coldly into place. He set his jaw. "What," he said quietly, "did Number 9 do?"

There it was. The key. He could see the truth of it in Robbie's face, in his sudden flinch, and most of all in his instant reply of, "What does Number 9 have to do with this?"

"You have never tried to _kill_ me," Sportacus said, and then really thought about that. "...Not _seriously_ , anyway. Not –– not like this. Even when I first got here."

Another staring contest. This one entirely for show. Sportacus had already won and they both knew it.

Robbie kicked the ground, voiced a wordless frustration at the sky, and sat back down next to him. "First of all," he said, "he glamoured the entire town."

Sportacus jerked back like he'd been hit. He _felt_ like he had. "He did _what_?"

"Everyone loved him," Robbie said, voice steeped in bitterness. He was staring at the ground as he spoke. "He dragged kids out of their homes, literally dragged, told them they ought to be playing outside, _suggested_ maybe this person's had enough to eat today or this _week_ , maybe that person's been spending too much time alone, maybe everyone will feel better if no one's allowed to sleep past nine in the morning or be awake after nine at night, and wouldn't it be _nice_ if everyone in town just decided to listen to him, since he so obviously knew better than the rest of us?"

The words poured out like Robbie had been rehearsing them, like this was a rant that had been locked up in his head for years with no audience but himself.

"It didn't work on me. The glamour. Not completely." He glanced up at Sportacus then. "You know what I am?"

Sportacus shrugged, still trying to comprehend the full implications of some of the things Robbie had just said. "I... know you can use magic."

Robbie huffed a laugh. "Yeah. Well. Keep your mouth shut about this, but I'm part fae. Don't know how much. Less than half. And _listen_ ," he snarled, anger suddenly flaring. " _Yes_ , I add some basic illusory magic to my disguises, and _yes_ , I... _discourage_ the townsfolk from thinking too hard about the fact that every _other_ time some new person shows up and causes trouble, it's me. But I _don't_ go around mass-brainwashing a whole town into forgetting that time I made kids run laps until they passed out, or that time I _convinced_ a family to move out because they were just a little too good at critical thinking, or that time I–-"

He stopped himself. Stared off at nothing.

Sportacus wanted instinctively to put a hand on his shoulder, but knew the gesture wouldn't be welcome. He settled instead for prompting, gently, "Robbie? That time he –– what, exactly?"

Robbie just looked at him. Sportacus had the distinct feeling he was being evaluated.

"...that time," Robbie said quietly, "I started trying to warn people, so he talked the others into locking an iron chain around my neck for a week and _don't you dare pity me_ , _I'll hit you_."

Sportacus held his hands up. "No pity," he said weakly, mind reeling. "Just, um. Horror. I think."

Robbie rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah, there's my tragic backstory. I wasn't _nice_ before that, don't go getting ideas. ...Don't go getting ideas about iron, either, it barely does anything to me."

"I wouldn't try it anyway!" Sportacus protested, more than a little insulted. "I wouldn't do –– I mean –– I had no _idea_ about _any_ of that."

" _Obviously_ ," Robbie said. "I mean, it took me a while to figure out if –– well. I can _usually_ tell when I'm being glamoured. So it... took me a while. To decide if you really weren't doing it or if you were just... a lot better at it than he was."

Sportacus swallowed, and looked down at his hand, where the only trace of today's ordeal was a faint outline that would probably scar. "So you... decided to trust me?"

Robbie snorted. " _Trust_ is a strong word. But..." He held up one clenched fist and slowly opened it to reveal a jagged piece of black metal. It was dusted in some kind of bright green powder, completely unaffected by the coating of dried blood. Robbie's hand was perfectly unscathed.

Sportacus stared. His heart was pounding, and he was getting dizzy just looking at the thing.

"If I seriously believed you were capable of the things Number 9 did to this town," Robbie said, voice low. Calm. Conversational. "I would never have bothered messing around with _sugar_."

He closed his hand around the object. Sportacus caught his breath, and then wondered if the effect that time had been purely psychological, or...

"Go home," Robbie said again, getting to his feet and, after a moment's hesitation, offering Sportacus the hand that wasn't holding the... object. "Get some sleep. Like I said. You should be fine."

Sportacus accepted the hand up. "Thank you," he said quietly. He gestured at his hand. "For... this, and for not. Um. Collecting."

Robbie actually chuckled. "Oh, that'd be too easy. I mean, I _could_ use the blood on this thing to magically evaporate you piece by piece, starting with your internal organs, _buuut_..." He snapped his fingers and the object vanished. He grinned. "Where's the fun in _that_? Anyway, good night!"

And humming contentedly, he strode off towards home, leaving a staring Sportacus in his wake.

**Author's Note:**

> eta: Thanks for reading!
> 
> And _wow_! Thank you so much for all the comments and kudos!
> 
> I went back and added a few details - mostly about the crystal - that slipped my mind last night.
> 
> I swear this all started with a passing thought of _Sportacus really shouldn't just flip around on his hands so much, what if he landed on broken glass?_


End file.
